


A Stone's Throw

by Alyth3cat, LadyNiaLavellan



Series: Lia Stone - GOT [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Jon Arryn Lore, Lore - Freeform, Marriage, Military women, Non-Graphic Smut, Post canon, Pregnancy, Rating subject to change, Sansa has remarried Tyrion, Self-Discovery, Shadowcats, Shippage between OC and Clegane, Virgin Sandor, defining moment, modern girl in westeros, more tags to come as story progresses, post season 7 pre season 8, protective sandor, this story has no cap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-10-16 08:47:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17546438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alyth3cat/pseuds/Alyth3cat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyNiaLavellan/pseuds/LadyNiaLavellan
Summary: Lianah {Lia} Stone was raised a military brat in our world, now is a Sergeant in the USMC. A weird event transports 25 year old Lia to a world she only knows from books and HBO: Westeros. How will she deal with this turn of life events? She soon learns she was born a highborn lords daughter in Westeros, but was thought to be stillborn and was sent away when her mother died in childbirth. What will happen next?





	1. A New Life

Lia was cold, had she kicked her covers off again? Even if she had she shouldn't be _this_ cold, right? She had worn her _U.S. Marines_ sweats and hoodie to sleep just in case. She felt dizzy and unsteady, like she had been drinking, even though she hadn't. Her mouth felt like sandpaper. When she tried to lift her hands to rub her eyes, the rough sounds of heavy chains against stones assaulted her ears and there was a heavy weight pulling against her wrists.

 

        “What the fuck?” She whispered to herself as she immediately sat up and tried to pull free from the offending and obscenely ancient shackles around her wrists, to no avail. Had someone gotten on base and kidnapped her? What was with the iron shackles? _Where the fuck am I?_ She grunted and pulled on the shackles some more, only stopping when her wrists started to become sore. The tiny window into the stone cell told her that it was still night time, whoever had done this to her was probably asleep. She decided to yell at the top of her lungs, thankful for the slight warmth moving around in her sweats gave her as she rattled the chains against the floor.

 

         It seemed like hours had passed before she heard movement outside the heavy looking wooden door. “For fuck's sake, let me out of here!” She hollered in a now hoarse voice before kicking the door again with her sock-covered feet. A very large, very manly looking woman with shaggy blonde hair and hooded blue eyes emerged from the other side of the door and Lia's mouth fell slack.

 

         She tried to form words, but a six and a half foot woman was standing in front of her, in full medieval armor that was black as night, and her hand on the hilt of a long sword that looked eerily familiar. When she stepped aside, Lia scurried as far away from the door as the shackles would allow, but it didn't keep her from being greeted face-to-nose by a giant white wolf with blood red eyes. The pain in her wrists told her she wasn't still sleeping back on her couch in her apartment at Fort Leonard Wood. She relaxed as she looked the beautiful canine in his crimson eyes and breathlessly said two words, “Down Ghost,” and the large domesticated direwolf sat down in front of her. The wolf looked back over his shoulder towards a young and serious man that had come through the dungeon door behind the Amazonian. His owner, looking nothing like Kit Harrington, cocked his long face in her direction. Shaggy brown hair fell to his shoulders and he was a lot leaner and taller than the actor that portrayed him. Starting to shiver, she looked past the Bastard of Winterfell, Jon, to see a tall redhead woman in a cobalt blue dress and black cloak with a grey fur mantle. Sansa. Sansa fucking Stark.

 

_Brienne, Jon, Sansa, Ghost? I'm dreaming right? No if I were dreaming, Clegane would be naked in my bed. What's going on here? This can’t be real can it?_

 

         Her thoughts were cut short by someone clearing their throat, “Answer him!” Brienne growled in a hoarse voice.

 

         “What? I'm sorry, I didn't catch what you said.” Lia said as she stood unsteadily, her red hair falling over her shoulders as she supported herself with the anchored shackles and tried to not fall over. The fiery color of her long tresses were unmatched by even Sansa’s ginger locks.

 

         “I said who are you? Some of my men found you near the Weirwood, how did you get into Winterfell?” Jon asked as he crossed his arms over his bulky chestplate.

 

“And more importantly, what are you wearing?” The Lady of Winterfell asked curiously as her hawkish gaze razed her from head to toe.

         

“I am Sergeant Lianah Elizabeth Stone of the United States Marine Corps, I'm a… soldier of sorts. These are my military issued United States Marine Corps sweatpants and hoodie, and I have no fucking clue how I got to Westeros, let alone Winterfell. This place isn't supposed to be real!” Lia said as calmly as she could but still shouted the last part in frustration. Shock had begun to set in, she was already shaking but it had become more violent. Lia held her arms close and tight to her body, something they had taught her in basic.

 

         “What do you mean by that?” Sansa asked as she stepped forward next to Jon, a pregnancy obvious to Lia now.

 

_Wonder who she actually married._

 

         “I was pretty clear, Lady Stark.” Lia said before she could stop the word vomit. She needed to make them believe her before she was lying across an Ironwood stump with Longclaw coming down on her neck. “I'm not from this realm, all of this,” she motioned in a general direction, “is a story in a series of books and… plays… where I'm from. This is not _real._ ” She didn't know how to explain a television to her fictional heroes. Play would have to do.

 

         “Lady Lannister is her title.” He said. Jon motioned to Brienne, who swiftly unshackled Lia. “What do you know of Westeros, Lady Stone?” Jon asked as Lia rubbed her bruised wrist. It seemed they had chosen to believe her for now.

 

         “I know Stone is a bastard name in the Vales, Jon. You can just call me Lia, I'm not even from here. I have no titles, and as far as anyone will know, I am a bastard from the Vales.” She said as she followed the three through Winterfell castle. The sun hadn't come up yet, but it had been at least five hours since she woke. She had used the shadows in her cell as a moondial of sorts. As the group had moved through the keep, Jon and Brienne had left her in Sansa's capable hands while they went to take care of something that was happening in the courtyard. Lia just shook her head and looked down at Sansa's feet as she trailed behind the poised and graceful Princess of the North.

 

         They passed several guards, but lost in her thoughts she never even looked up to try and recognize any additional players in the game. The two women entered a small bedroom, and Lia was instantly warmer. “It's true then? Warm water does flow through the outer walls?” Lia asked before noticing two scullery maids filling a brass bathtub in front of a roaring fire.

 

         “That it does, Lia. Lyrah and Myrianne will help you bathe and some clothing will be provided, as yours are not suited to our climate.” Sansa said before turning and leaving.

 

         Lia took the hairband from her wrist and put her long red hair into a messy bun on top of her head before taking off the sweats and hoodie that were now caked in muck. She dug into the pockets of the sweats, pulling out the unopened pack of cigarettes and lighter she had forgotten to remove before she’d fallen asleep. Steadier hands set the small green and black box and lighter on the furs of the bed before she pulled the green t-shirt she wore under her uniform over her head without thought. This elicited startled gasps from the two young women in the room with her. She had forgotten about her tattoo. The tattoo was three large black hounds in the center of her back and had been designed from the Clegane's Sigil. This was probably going to cause some gossip, hopefully it didn’t land her with a Longclaw necklace.  

 

         After waiting a few minutes, Lia sank her tired, cold body into the hot water. It had been ages since she had just lay in a bath. The heavy door creaking open woke her, making her sit up quickly to cover herself, but exposing her bare, uncovered back to whomever had just walked in. Without more than a male grunt, the door quickly shut and she stepped out of the tub.

Sansa had provided two outfits, one was a green velvet gown that had raven’s feathers embellishing the shoulders and bust. The other outfit, thankfully, was something much more practical. It was soft black breeches paired with a violet colored, female tunic that was edged in silver braiding. A thick black cloak with a black fur mantle had also been provided and black leather boots sat by the bed on the floor. She wondered if they were from the Night’s Watch supplies.

 

         When she was adequately dressed, with the help of the maids she couldn't remember the names of, she let her red wavy hair hang down to her hips. As she pulled the cloak around over her shoulders, she noticed the bird pin, The Vales of Arryn's sigil. A note was discreetly attached there.

 

          _Lady Lia,_

 

_I hope you have found the wardrobe to your size and liking. Jon has had an idea. You are to be the Lady Lianah Arryn, eldest child of the late Jon Arryn. You were raised by the Crannogmen of Moat Cailin, but have arrived to swear your oath and loyalty to the King in the North and have been appointed as the Seneschal of the Vales. Jon's men will be arriving here today and there will be a feast, join us in the Great Hall. Do burn this letter in the fireplace when you are finished._

_Sansa Lannister_

 

         Lia rolled her eyes and shrugged, tossing the parchment in the fire and exiting the bedroom. It took less than two minutes before she had a dagger to her throat. Before she could see who it was, her own borrowed dagger was against the large person's chest. Looking into her attackers face, she knew that, even with her ten years of military training, she couldn't take him, even if she wanted to. She dropped the dagger that was poised against Clegane's heart. “Kill me Sandor Clegane. You don't frighten me.” She growled. She knew she _should_ be terrified, but she wasn't. Her favorite Game of Thrones character had a dagger poised at her trachea, but Lia didn’t fear for her life. If she had one thing she knew they liked in Westeros, it was honor.

 

“How do you know who I am girl? And would ya like to explain the marks on your back?” His voice was rough, and unlike the makeup in the show, the real Sandor Clegane was much more gruesome. Part of his jaw bone was showing through the nasty burn scars on his right side.

 

“I can’t tell you that, Clegane. Not until I speak to Sansa and Jon.” Lia said before picking up her dagger and slipping it back into the sheath at the small of her back. “See ya later, Clegane.” She waved as she descended the stairs towards the great hall, leaving Clegane glaring after her in disbelief.


	2. When you have Lemons, Drink the Kool Aid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lia gets settled in her new life as Lianah Arryn, but her past has this way of sneaking up when she isn't busying herself. 
> 
> *TRIGGER WARNING* Lia has gone through emotional and psychological abuse from her father on Earth, the way he treated her and utterly ignored her could be triggering to some readers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the positivity! You guys keep us going and make us want to keep writing this story. We love comments! ~Nia and Aly~

         After a very long surreal day that included waking up in an alternate universe, nearly being skewered by Clegane and meeting too many Stark bannermen, the featherbed had been a welcome and comforting sight. Already half asleep and stuffed from the feast, Lia had stripped down to what passed for “underclothing” and slipped quickly under the pile of warm furs, cuddling into the very soft bed. A creak from a chair in the corner of her room made her jump out of bed. She was going to have to remember her safety wasn’t guaranteed here and keep a knife close by. Squinting into the dark, she spotted the large hulking figure of Sandor Clegane sitting in the wooden chair in the darkest corner of her bedroom.

 

         Lia sighed in frustration and crossed her arms before she cocked her eyebrow in question, “Clegane. What are you doing here? Is trying to see me naked your new hobby?” She asked sarcastically as he took a long drink from the goblet in his hand. She stood there for a moment before rolling her hazel eyes at him. “If you're staying, be quiet so I can sleep.” Lia nearly growled before she climbed back into the bed and covered herself with the sewn-together furs. For ten minutes she watched Sandor internally war with himself about his next actions but never saw the outcome as she closed her eyes and succumbed to her tired, aching body’s protests.

 

         “Lady Arryn?” A voice said as the heavy drapes over the large window of her room were thrown open to allow what little light there was pour into the small round room.

 

          _Oh, me? That's right, I’m Lady Arryn._

 

         “Lady Sansa has requested that you be woken in time to break your fast with her, shall I help you dress?” The maid asked. Lia considered the dress laying over the chair opposite the one Sandor had been sitting in when she had fallen asleep and nodded.

 

         “Yes, thank you.” Lia said before pushing the furs aside and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. The maid, whom she had been reminded was named Myrianne, made quick work of dressing Lia, and then excused herself. Lia hadn't worn her hair down in so long, it could have saved her years of headaches from tight buns and ponytails if she had just cut it when she was eighteen and joined the Marines. Thankfully, her long hair didn't stand out here. Putting the dark cloak around her shoulders, she went for breakfast with Sansa.

 

**_Two Weeks Later_ **

 

    It had been two weeks since Lia had woken up in Winterfell’s dungeon. As the initial shock had worn off at being in a fantastic reality, Lia had made the decision she was going to do the best she could with where she was. Even if this was an entirely different way of life than she was used to. She had no idea how she’d gotten here and no clue where to start on how to get home. Maybe one day she’d fall asleep and wake up back on her couch like nothing had happened. In the meantime she needed to stay alive.

 

          The hardest adjustment had been the stench of medieval civilization. It was rank and dirty. Though the smell didn’t bother her as much now as it had the first morning Sansa had given her a tour. Now it was more of a mild irritation rather than a horrid attack on her nostrils. She had been granted free reign of the keep and it’s grounds. It had been oddly easy to get them to believe her, then again they’d been watching the dead rise recently so what’s a little more weird thrown in there? She spent most of her time in the training yard with Lyanna Mormont, a lithe girl of only fifteen who wielded a greataxe like she was born with it in her hand. At first it had been disconcerting to see a child so deadly, but Lia had to keep reminding herself that this was Westeros and it was a kill or be killed kind of place. Most of her basic training was pretty moot here, especially since guns weren't an option, so she had thought she’d give learning swordsmanship a chance, but after Jon kept removing the sword from her hand, that axe was looking pretty good as an alternative.

 

    “It’s not like cutting down a tree, Lia!” Lyanna said as she dodged a wide swing from Lia’s practice axe.

 

    “I have never cut down a tree in my entire life, Lyanna.” Lia said sarcastically as she held the axe over her shoulder with ease. Daily PT at the fort was certainly coming in handy here. She could tell that she’d impressed some with her strength and agility during these training sessions. Jon remained stoic. The television series had gotten that down pat at least.

 

    “Excuses.” The witty teen remarked. “I thought you said you were a soldier.” There was a smirk with her words to lessen the bite, but her point was still made. Lia had a long way to go and it was frustrating. She needed to win something to boost her spirits.

 

    “Fine, I want a fight with no weapons.” It had been a point of pride for her that she’d had the best hand-to-hand combat skills of her squad and was still undefeated in the ring. She doubted anyone here practiced hand-to-hand skills outside of a bar brawl.

 

         “As you wish, but I am not going to fight you, Lia.” Lyanna said as she set her own axe down against a sword rack. She nodded to a girl maybe a couple of years older than herself. Brown hair framed a long face, her big brown eyes were sure and unafraid of anything. _Arya._

 

          “Let’s go Arya.” Lia smiled a wicked grin before her eyes landed on Clegane leaning against the barn, watching her intensely. If she had stared at him for a second longer, she wouldn't have dodged Arya's fist. A blur of long red, braided hair was all Arya Stark could catch a glimpse of before nearly colliding with a rack of battle axes and greatswords. Lia knew better than to get cocky, but remembering what she did of Arya, the faceless girl was always cocky.

 

          People had gathered to watch, Arya smirked. She must've thought Lia would go easy on her since her siblings were watching from the wooden breezeway above. The thin girl charged, but instantly regretted her actions when Lia lifted her off her feet, making her land on her ass in a snowdrift. “I concede, Lady Arryn. But we will do this again.” Arya said cryptically as she stalked off towards the hall. The gathered crowd dispersed quickly, and Lia went in search of something that would work for her as a pull-up bar. Swinging a greataxe was nice, but she knew she need to up her stamina if she wanted to fight more than teenage girls. She was thankful for Gendry, who had told her he would make her a badass greataxe. In fewer words.

 

         She couldn't seem to get the scarred face of Sandor Clegane out of her head,  didn't help to see him everywhere she turned. She knew she was more like the women of Bear Island rather than Sansa Star--Lannister, so she wasn't sure what his obsession was.

 

        Lia didn't take shit from anyone in her life, but she was raised on military bases, by a single dad when her mom died after giving birth. Sergeant Major Liam Roderick Stone wasn't around much, not for his daughter when she had ballet, or when she decided to join the ROTC program at her high school instead of going for cheerleading. Lia's dad had been FUBAR after the death of Lia's mom. It didn't help that she looked just like the Gunnery Chief Sergeant Elaine Stone, beautiful fire-colored hair and the brown-emerald of her hazel eyes. Seemed she was more like who she was pretending to be here than she thought about before. She shook her head and hoped no one noticed her now with red rimmed eyes full of unshed tears for her lost childhood. Though if there was a positive to all of this, she hadn't left much behind. She didn't like people, the few friends she did have would probably shit themselves if they knew where she was right now. Lia sat on a stone bench in an alcove and just hung her head. How did she end up here? Why was she brought here?

 

         She really wanted these questions answered, and soon.

 


	3. Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter focuses on Lia and Clegane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the beginning of the fluff. Enjoy it in this cold Winter.

         She was running and the smell of damp Earth and moss was so strong she could taste it in the back of her throat. There was freedom in running like she had never experienced and she pushed harder stretching her paws out in front of her --- wait, paws? She realized with a start that she was running on four legs, not two and she was closer to the ground, the spray of snow hitting her in the face with every stride. This was one weird dream- running on four strong legs through snow-covered woods- definitely a new one. It was new kind of relief to revel in and so Lia just enjoyed the fantasy and hoped she’d remember it in the morning. 

 

The following morning she awoke to several faces, worried faces, including Clegane hovering over her. The sudden closeness of so many startled her into full awareness and had her reaching for the dagger under her pillow and scrambling towards the other side of the bed. “You're a warg? If you're from a different world… how?” Sansa asked, suspicion evident in her voice.  _ What did she mean Warg? Is she talking about the dream I had last night? It was just a dream right?! _

 

         The confusion on her face spoke volumes to those gathered around because no one had a response.  “She's not a warg, sister. She's a greenseer. Interesting.” The voice came from Bran as a young, scarred woman with what looked like scales on half her face wheeled his makeshift wheelchair into the room. 

 

“Like you?” Jon asked him. Lia knew that Bran liked to keep important information to himself. Like the facts about Jon’s true heritage. She would have to ask him later if there were things he knew about her too. Just maybe when there weren't so many people around. 

 

“Yes.” Was Bran’s enigmatic response. It was extremely hard for Lia to not roll her eyes. Sansa would be proud. When he turned to leave the room, most of the group followed, their voices fading down the hall. 

 

Only Myrianne and, of course, Clegane remained behind. Lia sighed and lay back down on her pillows with a huff. Right now her body ached like she had had a seizure, which was weird since she had stopped having them at seven years old. Clegane, who now sat in what Lia dubbed “Clegane's brooding chair” in the corner of her room was silently brooding at her again. She could feel the weight of his gaze. One of these days she would carve it into the seat.

 

         After a second or two she sat back up and faced him. “Gonna sit and not talk again, Clegane?” She asked, and steele grey eyes met hazel eyes for a moment. The look in his eyes was one of worry and something else that she couldn't discern. She stood and turned her back to him then stripped her nightdress off. Myrianne huffed in exasperation at the impropriety of it all, but helped her dress quickly without giving the brooding giant too much of a show. Myrianne left shaking her head when she was finished. That left the two brooding, dangerous individuals together without supervision. 

 

         “Why do you follow me around Clegane? I'm not special, or interesting.” She demanded and then continued quietly as she braided her hair, “To be honest, I'm probably just as fucked in the head as you are.” His obsession with her was getting out of hand. “Sansa already told you how I ended up here, what else are you looking for?” She very nearly yelled, but remembered her lessons Sansa had been giving her. Niceness before hostility. 'A Lady never raises her voice when angered, Lia.’ This from the same woman who had killed one of her husbands with his own dogs and had allowed her little sister to kill Littlefinger, a mentor of sorts. An asshole, but still, someone who had taught Sansa valuable life lessons.

 

         “You don't know anything about me, girl.” He growled, but it wasn't hostile. It was questioning and bordered on worrying. 

 

         “You're right, I'm a stranger here. But I do believe that Cersei is a bitch and Jon can defeat the White Walkers and that ice spear throwing prick!” Lia hadn't noticed how each word had carried her forward and now she was nearly face-to-face with probably one of the most dangerous men in Westeros. She never understood her own obsession with Clegane until now, they were two sides of one fucked up coin. “But this 'stranger’ knows you… probably better than you know yourself. Knows your secrets, knows your pain and knows your fears.” Lia instinctively eyed the roaring fireplace across the room. These words had carried her those final step towards him and as she finished each word, she watched his steely orbs expand and dilate when their eyes met once more. Neither of them moved for so long, she thought he might actually speak, but then his gaze dropped and the spell was broken.

 

They were so similar. They had both been betrayed by family and scarred by those who were meant to protect and love them without question. Her scars were more metaphorical, but just as deep. Releasing her death grip on the wooden chair, she rushed out of her room and towards the stables, thankful for the horseback riding lessons her nanny made her take for half her life. She was suddenly suffocating and needed the freedom she’d experienced in her dreams the night before.

 

         The first horse she saw was a great black stallion, at least 16 hands high and he was trying to bite the stable boy.  _ He looks fast. _ She cautiously stepped up to the beautiful and powerful horse and placed her hand on his muzzle, half expecting to get bit, instead he let her pet him. Stepping up on a nearby wooden stool, she swung her right leg over his back and took off through the open gates of Winterfell, with no exact destination in mind. She rode for about two hours until coming up to a stream. Lia had no idea why she was here in Westeros, or how she was in Westeros, and now she was a greenseer? 

 

         “Because I'm not fucked up enough? Funny. The magic of Westeros.” She shook her head as she walked with the big black stallion who followed her of his own accord. Lia sat down on the cold pebbles beside the edge of the water and she watched the horse pause and drink before he came to stand next to her, nudging her shoulder with his head looking for affection. She rubbed his nose and noticed scars on his chest and legs. He was obviously a fierce warhorse, and he had been trying to bite the stable boy. It seemed at odds with the horses  displays of affection now, almost like he was trying to comfort Lia. What was it with large, fierce and scarred things with her? 

 

         Hours passed at the edge of the river. As night steadily approached the cold winter air grew frigid. She was too stubborn to admit that though and just pulled her cloak in tighter towards herself. Her mind kept wandering back to the last argument she had had with her dad. He had been drinking, yelling at her for not being the perfect daughter or some shit. It was his normal gimmick if she was honest. 

 

         She pulled her knees to her chest and laid her head there. Then Lia just cried. Big ugly racking  sobs. Some of the tears were grief for a life lost. It was already a freak occurrence to have gotten to Westeros. Somehow she knew deep down there was no going back. But mostly her tears were for realizing how much she hurt even though she was free now.  For the first time in years she wasn't being blamed for anything, it was a new beginning, but the words and the pain from her past were still there. She hadn't cried over anything since she was a kid, not even when Lucas broke her heart because she wouldn't sleep with him. “Why are men such assholes, horse?” She asked and knew she wouldn't get a response from him. She just sat, every mean word from her father spinning around in her head, fueling the emotional outburst she was having as she shivered from the cold. It was getting darker still, but Lia didn't notice until snow started falling. A sharp whistle broke through the silence and her pilfered horse ran off in the direction of the sound. Several minutes later, the tread of large boots, followed by the clatter of hooves, started to crunch the pebbles of the shore behind her. 

 

         She pulled out the pack of cigarettes she kept in a hidden pocket of her boot. She tapped the pack against her now  frozen hands before she pulled one out and placed it between her lips. Four cigarettes gone. Lighting it, she shivered from the bite of the cold wind as it picked up around her. Snowflakes fell lightly with only a few falling at a time but she knew it would pick up soon. Just as she knew that Clegane was standing behind her just a few feet back.  _ Crunch. _ A few more steps, he was right behind her now. 

 

         Suddenly, there was a weight on her shoulders and fur tickling her neck. He had put his cloak around her, like he had done for Sansa in King's Landing. This time, the damsel was just broken, she hadn't been stripped or beaten with swords. No, nothing so simple. She was wishing it  _ had _ been that simple. 

 

         “Sandor, could you take me home? I'm cold.” Lia asked, her words broken and quiet. He offered her a leather-clad gloved hand up as she put the cigarette out on a frozen rock. Sure, Lia had scars, she had been in her own battles and had even donated a kidney for her friend. But the mental scars were so much worse. She took Clegane's hand and he helped her up. The horse nudged her arm, asking for attention.

 

         “Bugger off ya mean arsehole!” Clegane's voice grumbled at the horse.

 

_ Stranger! I stole Stranger. And he likes me. Odd horse. _

 

         “Why do you hang around me, Sandor? I'm not like Sansa. I'm not some pretty little bird who's going to sit around in an embroidering circle spouting pretty little things.” Lia said, using words she wasn't sure if  _ this _ Clegane had ever said or not. His reaction told her everything she needed to know, pained grey eyes met puffy reddened hazel ones and neither could deny, or voice, the connective pull between them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lia learns why she was brought to Westeros and why she has greensight. It shakes her world up, but honestly, she knew she was there for a reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay!!! Aly has been working her butt off and She is my beta, and my younger sister. Here is a chapter that I edited most of myself, so any mistakes are Mine {Nia's} Please leave comments on what you think of this shocking chapter. the next one is pretty earth shattering so stay tuned for chapter five within the next week! ~Nia~

It had now been two months since she was dropped in front of the blood red leaves of Winterfell's Weirwood, Lia knew now that Clegane believed her story about being from a different world. He didn't say as much, but his reaction to her knowledge of words he had said years ago had been enough for her. The last couple of weeks Lia had spent in the forge, covered in dirt, sweat and grease and it was where she belonged. Gendry had agreed to teach her what he could of blacksmithing, as she had so wanted to make weapons for herself, but had insisted she work her way there, slowly. Clegane never seemed to be too far away, cocking a ruined brow at her every time she caught him gawking. 

 

         “Why is Clegane following you 'round, Lia? Thought he was 'nta distressing damsels, you can take’are of yaself.” Gendry asked sarcastically when  _ he _ caught the hulking man gawking at Lia as she shaped horseshoes. She just shrugged and looked up as she dropped the hot, curved metal into a water trough with a sizzle. To be fair, a lot of people gawked at Lia when she was in the forge, some women would give her horrified looks and even Sansa made a fuss about women, especially ladies, doing men's work. And wearing men's clothing.

 

         The worst was the evil eye she was getting from some of the whores, because Lia had more men interested in her than the women they paid to sleep with. If she was in the forge, she wore a sleeveless leather vest, a undershirt hiding the worst of her cleavage, and ‘leggings’ she had asked one of the seamstresses to make after specifying what they were… four times… and drawing a picture for reference. 

 

        “Why don't you go ask him, Gendry? I'm sure the tale will be riveting as to why he feels the need to sit in my bedroom all night.” Lia cracked, laughing at the horrified expression on the boy's face. “Where I'm from, relationships work  _ much _ differently than they do here. Women are allowed to choose and… court, who they see fit. Men and women are more equal in positions of power. And women don't  _ have _ to wear dresses, or sew. I was a soldier, and almost half of my squad was comprised of women.” Lia said, ignoring that Sandor had moved closer to the forge to listen to her story.

 

         “In fact where I'm from, if men behaved as Clegane has the past two months, he'd have been arrested for stalking.” That bit she made sure to say just a little bit louder for him as she smirked in his direction over her shoulder. She could swear she saw the good side of his face slightly curl into a smirk. She and Sandor had begun talking during his ‘brooding sessions’ in her bedroom. She would tell him about her world and he would fill her in on where her knowledge of Westeros had ended. They were five years into their winter, six months had passed since they returned from beyond the wall, which was quickly, and hastily repaired after Viserion melted a portion of it.

 

“Lady Arryn, a rider in the night has sent this for you from King’s Landing. It seems  _ some _ protest your claim.” Sansa approached, a sealed letter clutched in her perfectly soft hand, and her protruding belly even larger. Lia had had her ‘talk’ with Bran, which was very enlightening once she revealed she knew of Jon’s trueborn parentage. Turns out she did hold a claim in the Vale of Arryn, and her fabricated story was no longer a fabrication when Bran told her of  _ her _ trueborn Parentage. His words rang in her ears constantly. ‘ _ Your mother was Lady Jeyne Arryn neé Royce, it was said that the child she bore had not taken a breath, a stillborn daughter. That was  _ you _ , Lianah, though you were not stillborn.’ _ She couldn’t believe it when he told her that  _ that _ was the reason for her greensight. She was Lady Lianah Jeyne Arryn, Lady of the Eyrie, Lady Paramount of the Vale, and Warden of the East since her little brother Robert ‘Little Robin’ Arryn had thrown himself from the moon door after Littlefinger’s “trial” six months ago. No one had dared protest her claim as she had Jon Arryn’s features and Jeyne Royce’s fiery hair.

 

“But my claim on the East is as solid as the Iron Throne, I  _ am _ Jon Arryn’s daughter.” Lia said as she read the threatening words a few times over before Sandor snatched the letter from her hand, as he read it, a snort erupted from his chest.

 

“Petty death threats won’t stand in this little fox’s way. She has some work to do, but she’s been training your new recruits, Lady Lannister.” He said as he thrust the parchment back toward Sansa. Lia shoved a dirty hand into his chest and scoffed.

 

“I am no little girl, Sandor.” She said as Jon sidled up. “Is it a party in the forge tonight, then?” She said sarcastically as she crossed her arms.

 

Jon rolled his eyes before putting his 'serious’ face on. “Cersei is on the rampage after having the East pulled out from under her. I’d expect assassins if I were you, Lady Arryn.” Jon said as he looked up at her and made a face between horror and amusement at her state of dress and the dirt she had accumulated while working. 

 

“You do realize who sleeps in a chair in the corner of my room, don’t you.” She said nodding in Clegane’s direction. “I think I’ll be ok, especially since Lyanna has been showing me that daggers are very effective for someone like me, the greataxe is great for a battle, but for a small fight,” She twirled two double-edged daggers from her back before piercing the wooden workbench with them in a flash of movement, “these will suffice. I am used to throwing my body around, I am very nimble thanks to activities my nan used to make me do.” She said regarding her fifteen years of gymnastics. “Cersei would have me tamed and collared, Jon would have me as an ally. My loyalty cannot be bought, you needn’t worry.” Lia smiled and returned the daggers to her back before grabbing the iron clamps from the workbench and grabbing another horseshoe from the hot coals and began hammering it into shape, loudly. Then Jon cocked an eyebrow, clearing his throat.

 

“You need to go home, Lia. Your soldiers need to see you, the people of the East need all the pomp and circumstance of a new leader.” Jon said as he crossed his arms, amused.

 

Lia finished with the horseshoe she had over the anvil and dropped it into the water trough with a loud sizzle, and huffed, wiping sweat from her brow. “I’ll go, I’ll leave at first light.” She nodded to Sansa and Jon as they retreated back to the keep. She sighed and leaned her back against one of the wooden posts holding up the roof of the forge, sliding down the wood before finally settling her ass in the dirt and resting her arms over her knees. “Now I have to go East, alone. Fucking brilliant.” She said as she leaned her head back and closed her hazel eyes. Eyes that belonged to her mother, once. 

 

She heard a loud thud as Clegane sat next to her, a smaller thud followed as Gendry sat on her other side. “Innit Clegane your shield now? He’ll go with ya, Lady Lia. I would if I could, but I have my eye on somin ‘ere.” Gendry said reassuringly. 

 

“You need to tell Arya how you feel, Gendry.” Lia said nudging Gendry with her arm and knee, making the slender man blush and the giant snort. How Gendry wielded a warhammer was beyond her.

 

“Same thing I been tellin’ Clegane.” Gendry said as he eyeballed Sandor, Lia now cocking an eyebrow.

 

“Wait, he talks to you?” She asked Gendry before turning to Clegane. “You talk to Gendry, but not me. I am hurt, Sandor.” She said, feigning heartbreak as she clutched her chest and giggled. Just then Sandor smiled for a moment, but quickly righted himself as he stood and pulled Lia up by her hand.

 

“Watch that smart mouth, girl. It may get you into trouble.” Clegane said as he smirked and escorted her inside, ignoring Gendry’s maniacal laughter behind them.

 

**_Two and a half weeks later_ **

 

_ The Vale of Arryn, Sigil: A white sparrow flying towards a white crescent moon on a sky blue field,  house words: As High as Honor, Seat: The Eyrie _ . Well if there was one thing Lia had in spades thanks to practically raising herself and being trained as a soldier, it was honor. Riding her white horse through the Bloody Gate into the Eyrie, Clegane clad in his onyx armor and the new onyx Hound helm Gendry had made him, a yellow cloak with his house sigil on it. She, clad in a blue, woolen gown that definitely showed too much cleavage, but hid her daggers easily. Soldiers from The Vale met them at The Twins to escort her the rest of the way home.  _ Home. _ It was odd to think of the Eyrie as home, it was where she was meant to grow up, meant to be brought up as a proper Lady and be married off to some high ranking lord she didn’t know. The thought made her snort out loud, eliciting an amused look from Sandor.

 

“What’s going through that pretty little head, lass?” He asked as he brought Stranger up to pace with Hera, Lia’s horse.

 

“Just how much I would’ve never known growing up here in Westeros. I would’ve been married off at an early age to some snobby Lord, probably have six kids by now and sitting in a sewing circle. Instead I practically raised myself, became a soldier and became good at fighting, which, little did I know, would come in handy. Where I am from, women are encouraged to learn to defend themselves, and not with poisons.” She explained to a riveted Clegane, he loved hearing stories of her world. Her hair hung down her shoulder in a long, fiery braid, peeking out from under the hood of her cloak. She didn’t expect it to be so wet and chilly in the Vale, nor did she expect the warm greeting she received when she crossed into the Eyrie. She looked up at the Moon Mountains and the white stone stronghold, the palace was gorgeous, it’s ‘skycells’ were at the base to her left, a makeshift elevator just ahead of her. She had argued with Jon and Sansa the morning she left, whining about how she was just fine being a Seneschal. They wouldn’t hear of it, and sent her anyway. Sansa was so close to giving birth that Lia was sure she had by now.

 

“M’lady, welcome home.” A man clad in grey robes and too many chains to count said as she dismounted Hera with Clegane’s help, grunting when the dress pinched her side.

 

“It is all still very new to me, Maester?” She asked as she pulled her hood down.

 

“Maester Hawden, M’lady. The entire keep ‘as been very busy preparing for your arrival, and that of Ser Clegane.” Hawden said as the three of them stepped into the wooden elevator and he handed her a letter from Sansa, who had given birth to a baby boy, whom she named Eddard, after her father. Also warning her about something called a Shadowcat. If she remembered correctly, they were supposedly like giant, fluffy black tigers with white or grey stripes. When they reached the top, stepping into the keep, people were abuzz, milling about like their asses were on fire. She and the Maester nodded to each other and went their separate ways.

 

“Oh!” She exclaimed as a maid helped her out of her cloak as she was removing her leather riding gloves, she took those as well before walking away without a word. Another maid, who introduced herself as Deanna, escorted her to the Lord’s Chambers, a huge room, everything was carved from ivory and ironwood and the floor was a deep violet marble. She asked the maid to help her out of the heavy winter gown, which seemed more complicated than it should be. The keep was warm, even with the snow falling outside.

 

“Is that all, m’lady? I must get back to your nameday preparations.” Deanna asked and Lia nodded curtly as she threw open the doors to a stone balcony, standing on the cold stone, barefoot in a wool shift. She had made it in time for her birthday, what people in Westeros called a nameday. They all knew hers, half of them were part of the staff when she was born, Deanna had pulled her from her mother, according to Hawden.

 

Lia looked out to the mountains, breathing in the crisp air and looking onto the small village below. A knock at her door startled her as she pulled a robe around her. She quickly opened the door, allowing a cart to be wheeled in with her supper and what looked like Dornish Red, her favorite. “Please ask Ser Clegane if he will take his supper in my chambers.” She asked the male servant, who just nodded. Clegane knocked on her door minutes later, his eyes gazing up and down her body.

 

“Gods, do you dress this way to entice, Little Fox?” He asked as she stepped aside laughing.

 

“I dress this way because I am not used to heavy wool dresses that make my ass itch, Sandor.” She said, she had traded the wool shift for a silk one, along with a matching silk robe.

 

“That seems fair, I don’t think I could wear wool gowns without my arse itching like mad.” He said sardonically as he filled the two crystal goblets with the sweet red wine they both enjoyed. She set the food that had been brought in on the ashen ironwood table, inviting him to sit.

 

Two hours later he had asked to hear more about Earth. Lia obliged, drunkenly giggling at some of his expressions. “It’s called a television, or TV for short. And no, Sandor, the people aren’t tiny,” she said as she closed one eye and nearly pinched her thumb and forefinger together, “They’re normal size, the movie or show is filmed with those cameras I told you about, recorded and sent to television to be released for entertainment. That is why Americans are so lazy.” She said as she crossed her legs. 

 

“And ya don’t hunt fer ya food?” He said, amused at her drunkenness.

 

“Some do, I went hunting a lot with my friend Lenora and her dad, but very few use archery to hunt, we used guns. They’re much more dangerous than a sword or arrow, and most can hit a target from afar.” She said, draining her goblet again, filling it once more. “Usually we just head on down to a market--err, grocery store, like a shop that sells prepackaged food. And we store our food in a refrigerator, a machine that keeps food fresher for longer.” She said, her words slurred just a bit.

  
Feeling emboldened by the alcohol, she rose and rounded the table, putting her hands on the armrests of Sandor’s chair. “Why are you so enamored with me, Clegane? I’m not special. I’m broken and bruised and scarred on the inside. You know what I’ve been through, and I know what your life was like. What your brother did was cruel and he deserved to hang for it. Did shielding Arya change you so? Has the fearsome Hound gone soft--” She said in joking mockery, but was interrupted by soft, scarred lips on hers and calloused hands cupping her face. Before she knew it, Lia was sitting on Clegane’s lap, their mouths molding together. She never knew that _this_ , what was happening between her and Clegane, would ever happen to her. But she told him the first day they had met, nearly three months before, that he didn’t scare her. He had seen her tattoo. He had been following her around everyday, and then swearing to be her shield when they found out she was actually a trueborn Lady of Westeros. Lia knew one thing: Love had weird tricks up its sleeve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeyne Royce was Jon Arryn's first wife, she died in childbirth, giving birth to a stillborn daughter. I used this bit of lore to my advantage to give Lia the backstory Aly and I wanted.


	5. When you play the Game of Thrones...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lia has her first encounter with the ugly side of Westeros.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took three people and two Monsters to write. Welcome to our new beta, Knoare, who has helped tremendously by editing this chapter and hopefully future chapters for Aly and I.

Two more weeks had passed; ever the gentleman, Clegane had been fully clothed with his own covers as he slept next to Lia every night since their first day in the Eyrie. He’d left a week ago, long before she’d woken that day, to go traipsing off with the hunters in search for boar and deer for her feast. She’d become so accustomed to his presence that his absence had left her restless, sleep eluding her most nights. 

 

Lia’s maid woke her that morning by pulling the heavy drapes open in her room; today was when nobles from across the Seven Kingdoms would be arriving for her nameday feast. Hawden had spared no expense for the celebration that was to happen in just two days. Jon had left just days after she had arrived, following Hawden’s letter about the occasion. It was surreal as to how twenty-five years of a normal American girl life had suddenly led her to becoming one step below royalty in Westeros. Daenerys would be in attendance, as well as most of the Northern houses and Ser Jaime Lannister, who had sworn loyalty to Jon after Cersei had finally showed her true colors. This was potentially the most prestigious gathering of leaders in Westeros since The Red Wedding. Lia spent the morning bathing before she dressed herself in a blush pink gown of her own design, and had her maid braid her crimson hair. 

 

“M’lady, your guests are arriving.” Hawden said as she was stepping out of her room.

 

“I am heading to the hall now, Hawden. Have my hunters and Ser Clegane returned yet?” She asked, pouring over letters that Hawden had given her from Lords who refused the invitations at her writing desk. 

 

“They were seen coming through the Bloody Gate a half mark ago, m’lady. Ser Clegane is waiting for you in the hall with a nameday gift for you.” Hawden said, looking somewhat unamused as she handed him the wooden clipboard with her decisions and responses. 

 

A loud roar was heard from the sky that beckoned those within to rush to an available window, herself included. Looking out, she nearly fell backward as Drogon passed by, his wing nearly touching the stone. The sight was beautiful and breathtaking, his black and rust colored scales gleaming in the early morning sun. Lia could just make out atop the beast what seemed to be a silver-haired rider clad in blue fur and a smile stretched widely across her face. 

 

Lia made haste to the hall where Sandor stood in front of her throne. The sight of him returned safe and sound settled something in her heart she didn’t want to explore too closely and she smiled freely towards him. There was a small, furry, black animal clutched in his arms, sleeping with its head in the crook of his arm. She looked at him with amused curiosity and a cocked eyebrow. 

 

“Sandor, what is that?” She said, trying not to laugh as he thrust the ball of fur into her arms. “You didn’t! Oh my  _ GODS, _ Sandor! She is beautiful.” She said, looking at the large shadowcat cub in her arms. It was surprisingly docile, but such what perhaps one would expect from a kitten.She held the kitten aloft in front of her as she admired the precious gift he’d brought. 

 

“The Starks have their Direwolves, and now you have a Shadowcat. We had to kill it’s mother after it attacked and killed four o’ the hunters. The lil’ thing was hiding in a hole nearby, mewling and chuffing before she come a’prancin’ up to Ser Tayner.” He said. Lia was petting the animal’s soft fur, the cat purring loudly as it placed its large paws on her chest to rub its face against her jaw. There was a look of concern on her face as she made to ask about the lost hunters when the doors to the hall opened. Lia sat down in her throne with the cat laying on her lap, the latter appearing content to watch under the safety of her new mother. Daenerys stepped into the hall with Jon, Tyrion and Jaime Lannister following close behind. Tyrion’s eyes widened when he saw the ball of black fluff with faint white stripes laying on her lap protectively. Ghost trotted over and sat next to her throne, sniffing the cat who in turn sniffed the former back. The cat received a lick on the head from Ghost, having been accepted to be part of his pack. 

 

“My Lady Arryn, it is lovely to finally meet you in person. My wife often speaks highly of you.” Tyrion said as he stepped next to Daenerys, eyeing the black mass of fur as it perked it’s ears in different directions. 

 

“And she speaks highly of you as well, Lord Tyrion. Congratulations on the birth of your son, little Lord Eddard Lannister. I hear he is as beautiful as your lovely wife.” She said with a smile. “And welcome to the Eyrie, Queen Daenerys. Drogon is beautiful as well; I saw him as you passed the keep.”

 

“Thank you, Lady Lianah. It is our pleasure to finally make your acquaintance,” She said, cocking an eyebrow between Lia and Sandor as she curtsied slightly. “It is nice to see you again, as well, Ser Clegane.” Sandor bowed his head curtly; he trusted Dany because she saved his life, but part of him felt that he couldn’t trust her at the same time. Lia believed it to be the fact Daenerys could walk out of fire without a scratch on her. Jaime just stared between his brother and Lia, amused at Tyrion’s new obsession with the small shadowcat sitting on her lap.

 

The rest of the day was spent greeting nobles from everywhere that dared to recognize her title. That, and she was to deal with a whopping total of twelve marriage proposals, all of which she denied as gracefully as possible. It would be best for her to remember to be cautious, knowing that some of her guests could be potential spies or assassins from King’s Landing. For the literal bitch Queen.

 

She didn’t realize how right she was.

 

Setting the sleeping cat on her wide bed after her long day, she pulled the leather cord that held her hair up and let her fiery tresses fall around her hips, sliding her daggers from her back, she secured them in her night stand. She heard her heavy wooden door open for a moment or two, before it closed as she stood at the foot of her bed, petting the Shadowcat cub, which she had aptly named Shadow.  She had been expecting to see Sandor when she turned around, but instead, Shadow had hackles raised on the bed and was chuffing angrily at a person clad in a dark cloak, he was much too short to be Sandor. “Get out of my chambers,  _ NOW! _ ” She said angrily as she raised her voice three octaves, standing defensively in front of her cub. Sandor would be in any moment.  _ Please come through that door, Clegane.  _ She thought as her eyes darted between the door and the cryptic person standing between her and it. Lia saw the glint of a dagger in the man’s hand just before he growled and lunged at her as she ducked out of the way with just a second to react. 

 

She immediately bolted for the door, but the man had grabbed her by her hair and yanked her down to the floor; she swore she felt something crack when her head hit the hard marble. The man had her by the throat, dragging the dagger sharply down the left side of her face, where she could feel the bite of the knife scrape her cheekbone and blood trickle down her face as her head started to spin. Before the inky blackness that was threatening the edges of her vision could take her, however, she felt the weight on her chest disappear and heard Clegane’s angry growl, and saw the blurred colors of his sigil cloak.

 

When she woke, it was dark outside still. Shadow was sleeping next to her mistress’ head, one giant black cat paw pushed against Lia’s right cheek. She sat up slowly, looking around the room, her drapes were drawn shut, Clegane was slumped in a sitting position on the plush blue chaise that faced her bed, snoring lightly. The emptiness of her bed had woken her. Impulsively, Lia touched the sensitive place on her left cheek and hissed sharply, waking Sandor as the pain brought everything that had happened flooding back, along with a sharp pain in the back of her skull. She tried to hold in the emotions, but she wrapped her arms around her knees the way she did when she was putting up her walls. It had all happened so fast, as she replayed the event in her mind.

 

Her body was shaking, in shock, in anger, in disgust. The man hadn’t spoke, but he had intended to torture her. She tried to ask Clegane to come lay down but the only thing that happened sounded like nails on a chalkboard and searing pain in her throat. She rose, gently, and walked over to her dressing table with the mirror, noting the dark black and purple bruises in the shape of fingers on her throat. That was the tipping point as she stumbled back a step, into Sandor’s chest. She hadn’t realized she was dressed in one of her silk nightgowns that showed her bare back, and the Clegane House Sigil tattoo there. He turned her around as she looked at the floor.

 

“He’s in a skycell, the little cunt. I wanted to kill ‘im for what he did to you, Little Fox.” Sandor growled as he looked at her bandaged face. She knew the dagger had met bone, and had sliced it’s way from the top of her cheekbone to the base of her chin, she could feel the broken, sliced flesh inside her mouth near her back teeth.

 

“I--I…” Was all she could get out of her damaged throat. Sandor placed his hand on the right side of her face and shushed her gently, lifting her bridal-style and letting her curl into his chest on the bed. This is where she broke down, Sandor ran his hands through her hair, careful to avoid where she had hit the floor, kissing her hair and just holding her. She never realized how gentle he could be, how much he had changed when he was watching Arya. The television didn’t do Sandor Clegane any justice. This man had protected her, had pulled her attacker away before he could do more damage. Her face would heal, her head would heal, her throat would heal. She couldn’t say the same about her mind. She never cared if she got scarred up, but a wounded mind could fester, and that was worse than any injury Lia had ever had, even more so than her “dad’s” assholish behavior.

 

“I am sorry, Little Fox. If I hadn’t stopped to say hello to Jon…” Sandor said and Lia shook her head, bringing his lips to hers for good measure. She didn’t blame Sandor, her guards  _ know _ that he is the only one to enter her chambers after supper. She raised her head for a second, there was no way that her night guards would mistake the 5’6” man that had attacked her for the six and a half foot scarred one that shared her bed every night. Her ginger brows furrowed together as she looked between Sandor and her door. “Are you stupid, Lia? I’m not leavin’ ya.” He said, interpreting that entire scene completely wrong. It was sweet and she tried to smile and shake her head, only to wince at the pain the actions caused.

 

Lia wriggled off of Sandor, to his distressed amusement, as she walked over to the door and pulled it open, looking at the guards stationed on either side. She made hand gestures and cocked an eyebrow. It took him a couple of minutes, watching Lia make hand gestures at the open door, and eventually yanking one of the guards into the room and oddly pointing at him, before Sandor finally got what she was asking.

 

“Your guards, Lia? Lord Trasks man slit Grange and Lorna’s throats, that’s why I stormed into the room, girl.” He said as the guard that was standing next to Lia hung his head. She waved her hand in dismissal after patting him on the shoulder, and returned to her curled-up position on Sandor’s lap as she silently cried.

 

Two days later, Lia had begun to feel better, though there was still a huge gash in her cheek and it had swollen to be rather large and was turning black and blue, along with her left eye. Deanna had sent a healer to sew it up, but it was still going to leave a gnarly scar. Her head stopped hurting at last, however, and the black and blue handprints on her throat had faded to a sickly yellow-green color, and she could speak for the most part. She was still raspy, but words came out now, at least.

 

“Lady Lianah, a joy to see you back on your feet after that horrendous incident.” Jaime Lannister said as he fell in step with her. “So, my lady, are the rumors true? Will you be wed to Clegane?” This stopped her in her tracks as she eyed Jaime Lannister. She had Deanna cut her hair previously; as of now, it was shaved on the sides and only fell to the middle of her back, this had Jaime looking at her like she had three heads and toes on her fingers.

 

“I hadn't thought about it, and he hasn't asked, my Lord. We have not been intimate with each other, but I allow him to sleep in my bed and watch out for me, especially after what happened the other night.” Lia responded honestly. He really couldn’t speak of how improper it was; he had impregnated his sister three times over.

 

“Well, whichever suitor you choose, Clegane is the one who will protect you.” Jaime said,  before bowing his head and heading towards the library where Tyrion would be reading. She hadn’t thought about marriage, well not since someone tried to make her look like Joker from The Dark Knight. The Ladies that had been wandering the halls that morning had gasped when they seen what her face looked like now, she suddenly knew how Sandor felt when people didn’t want to look him in the eye.

 

Lia was considered old enough now, wasn’t she? Sansa married Tyrion when she was fourteen; Shireen, only sixteen, was now married to Bran. Lianah was nearly 26 but had never experienced sex. She guessed this was a good thing now that she was in Westeros; noble families take special care that their daughters remain celibate until marriage, anyway. Her feet had carried her to the hall, where things were being set up for her nameday tomorrow. Shadow rubbed against her leg as she leaned against the stone wall in an alcove. She was nervous; Lia never got nervous under scrutiny before, but she had never had so many people judging her for something out of her control. The song ‘ _ Don’t Judge a Book by its Cover _ ’ by Jadyn Rylee came to her mind; all of these stuffy nobles were judging her by the way she looked now. She wished she had her phone in her pocket when she had been dropped into Westeros, knowing that she could really use some songs from her Badass Workout playlist right now. She slinked back into the shadows, her Shadowcat cub on her heels. “Let’s go find Sandor, Shadow.” She said as she slipped through a hidden corridor, holding it open for the cat. The two wandered for hours until the first of the bells tolled from somewhere above her. Turning a corner, Lia bumped into something--or some _ one _ \--very solid.

 

“What’re ya doin wanderin around, little fox?” Sandor asked as he smirked.

 

“Staying away from the gawking asshats in the hall and corridors. What has you skulking about?” She said, sarcastically raising an eyebrow. Sandor offered her his arm, Lia took it with the best smile she could with her sore face.

 

“I was checking that we didn’ have any other nameday ‘surprises’ about.” Sandor said as they walked down the quiet, empty hallway. She had been foolishly excited to celebrate her first birthday since returning to Westeros, now the fear had settled into the pit of her stomach and didn’t want to leave. The fact that Westeros wasn’t just a land in a book was now carved into her face. 

 

She looked up to Sandor, she was on his ‘good side’ as he liked to say. “You know Sandor, I’ve never considered myself vain before, but do you think I’m still pretty?” She realized as she asked the question that she might not want the answer to, Sandor’s opinion meant too much. And she found herself holding her breath as she waited on his response. He seemed to miss a step as they walked along, his head sharply turning towards her. His gray eyes met her hazel ones and she watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed and considered his answer.  

 

He turned towards her and cupped her face gently in his large hands, careful of her wounds. “Aye lass, you’re still beautiful.” His voice more gruff than normal before he took her arm once more and continued along like nothing had happened. Lia looked at the floor as they walked, smiling as best she could to herself.


End file.
